UBT: Loving Your Husband Hurts Me Too
There is no sadder sausage than the Other Woman and her unrequited love. An alert chump sent me this submission, YourTango, “Loving Your Husband Hurts Me Too“, for the Universal Bullshit Translator.
After all this time, I still hope he leaves you.
I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.
Except for his pesky wife.
We sit across from one another at the Greasy Spoon diner, reaching over the table to touch hands, caressing thumbs with the tenderness of a violin player. We must be touching, always touching.
Ours is the kind of love that can only be venerated in greasy diners. The kind with the rotating dessert displays. You know, the classy kind.
I caress my Beloved with the frenzied pizzicato of lust. We are tender violins. We swell. We vibrate. We order waffles.
We joke and laugh, we talk, we sit in pure adoration. I know every inch of his face and he knows every inch of mine.
It’s my face he’s interested in. Really.
I order his food (one Belgium waffle on the soft side, a plate of crispy bacon) and he orders mine (a short stack, no butter, a bowl of fruit, a side of extra crispy bacon). We sit, together in our love, relishing every second.
I’m a few pancakes short of a stack. He is a flaccid Belgian waffle. But we share a deep mutual love of crispy bacon.
A car pulls up outside and warrants his cursory glance. The glance holds on a bit too long. The couple in the car comes inside and he follows their every move. They sit two booths behind us. He stares for a moment, then snatches his hands back from the table.
The divot in his ring finger catches the light, reminding me of the torture I so often hide when we’re together. He fumbles in his pocket, quick with fear, and slips his platinum wedding band back on his finger. My heart is in shambles. We get the bill and pay for our unfinished food. Outside, he apologizes. I say nothing and drive home alone in tears.
Is this the thanks I get? A half-finished waffle? I ordered your bacon correctly! I took charge of the menu! I caressed your thumb! And you ask for the check?!
Yes, it’s that special can’t-be-seen-with-in-public-together kind of Love.
You would think after three years of dating a married man, I would be used to this.
(The UBT thinks you’re a slow learner.)
But it still stings just as much as the first time we ran into a relative of his and I had to “hide behind the oranges” in the grocery store. In truth, this was an infrequent occurrence.
Because sometimes having to hide behind citrus fruit is completely acceptable in a relationship… so long as it’s not frequent.
Maybe that made it worse? I’ll never know for sure. I suppose the fault is mine.
Okay, so I pelted your cousin with a tangerine.
If I had never let things progress, I wouldn’t feel the hurt tugging on my heartstrings when we needed to disguise our relationship or feel the jealousy when he went home to his wife, as he always did.
So why did I do it? Why does anyone do it? At the start of it all, the perks of the situation swam happily in my mind. Imagine the freedom! Imagine the absence of committed responsibility!
Imagine hiding behind oranges!
I was a secure, confident woman and was not willing to compromise my life for a relationship and everything that came with it.
Like reciprocity, morals… or self-respect.
Like most modern women, I felt I only needed a man for one thing, and a coupled lifestyle was not that thing.
I’m not narcissistic. I’m modern.
Excuse me, Chump Lady needs to interrupt this translation to comment. Yeah, you’re so not interested in being “coupled” that you’ll hide behind oranges or run from half-eaten breakfasts to maintain some simulacrum of a man’s attention. And you want us to think you’re a modern woman?
Somewhere a suffragette is spinning in her grave.
So I figured, who better than a married man? Moreover, a married man with kids!
I’m sociopathic too. The total package, gentlemen.
He had his responsibilities with his wife and family. There would be no awkward morning-afters, no constant phone calls or texts. I could have all the space I wanted and I would hear no complaints from his end. It would be easy and stress-free.
But what started out as a simple, no-strings-attached relationship (or at least the illusion of one) evolved into much more. You can never have your cake and eat it too.
Sometimes you have to get up from the half-eaten plate of waffles.
Maybe it was the jolt of electricity we both felt when we first met and shook hands or maybe it was our mutual understanding of the other’s troubles. Either way, we grew to rely on one another. We became each other’s go-to when one of us needed support.
He was just a supportive friend. A pal. The person you’d call if you were on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and the host asked, “What is the capital of Burkina Faso?” You unsophisticated, judgmental hicks might say something stupid like, “Ouagadougou.” But Modern people like myself and my Beloved know it’s a trick question. There’s no such thing as Burkina Faso!
And the casual friendship-with-benefits morphed into a caring, loving relationship. I could see the aurora dancing in his eyes when he saw me, and he could see the sparkle in mine. We knew each other inside and out, our lives so intertwined we were hard to tell apart.
[The UBT needs a moment to vomit….]
I could see the rings of Saturn frolicking in his trousers, and when he saw me, he could see sassy frauleins clogging on tables, with their naughty ankles and woolen knee socks, edelweiss falling from their buck-teeth. Our eyes met and it was earflaps. We knew each other catatonically. Deeply septuagenarian and intertwined, like obstructed intestines. Or pickled sideshow calf twins. In a Jar of Longing. Because aurora sparkles.
[I’m sorry the UBT appears to be malfunctioning. Let me whack it…]
But I didn’t count on the pitfalls of this type of relationship.
I thought I had it all figured out. I didn’t expect to grow to need him. I didn’t expect to miss him when we weren’t together, I didn’t expect to become so attached to his children that they felt like family, and I definitely didn’t expect to fall in love.
Or for him to fall in love with me. What I thought could be something simple ended up being a stressor. We had to hide. Our time together was constantly cut short so his wife wouldn’t find out.
But it’s okay for the kids to know. The wife? Fuck her. Children LOVE to keep secrets like “Daddy Has a Girlfriend.”
I was jealous and angry and crazily in love, and at times, so hurt I could barely stand. I hate being second in line, yet I was. He would tell me grand stories about how we’d be together full-time someday. He would leave her and be with me. A small part of me believed him, but the rest of me knew better. Yet still I stayed. We had such an intense connection that I was convinced living without him would be so much worse than enduring the agony of sharing my man.
My self-inflicted agony is the only agony that matters.
Like most everything else in my life, our relationship became punctuated by song lyrics I felt described our situation.
Sugarland, “Stay”: It’s too much pain to have to bear / to love a man you have to share.
The Wreckers, “Leave the Pieces”: You say you don’t wanna hurt me, don’t wanna see my tears / so why are you still standing here just watching me drown … You not making up your mind / is killing me and wasting time.
Nickel Creek, “I Should’ve Known Better”: Your love meant trouble from the day we met / you won every hand, I lost every bet.
Zac Brown Band, “Colder Weather”: And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay / She’s answered by the tail lights / Shining through the window pane.Listening to them made me feel better.
Well, it’s doing bupkis for the Universal Bullshit Translator. Please, please don’t feed the UBT Nickel Creek.
I’m so glad you’re a sad song lyric and not a real person inflicting harm on innocent children and a trusting chump. The UBT is relieved to know you’re just a figment. An undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato…
Holy Marley’s Ghost! Please tell me you’re just click bait and are not REAL.
It reassured me someone went through the same things I did, that I wasn’t alone in my torture. But even through the music, I could feel things starting to fall apart. I began to obsess over his life with her. What were they doing? Where were they going? Was he having more fun with her than with me? What was so great about her anyway? Our love for each other stayed strong, but the relationship had collapsed. I knew what I had to do, as much as I tried to ignore it.
On an unseasonably warm March evening, I ended it.
The chill had left the air and incoming Spring filled me with the power and motivation to do the hardest thing I knew I needed to do. My tears fell as fast as the first thunderstorm of the year.
“What are you saying?” he asked me. “I think I’m breaking up with you,” I said.
“Maybe you should think about it more,” he pressed. I told him, “I won’t come to any different conclusion. It’s over.”
And that was it. There was no pomp and circumstance. Just plain cold truth. We spoke sparingly over the next few days and it eventually faded to no communication. In silence, my world was ending. I gave up on love, on life. I stayed in bed all day and didn’t eat.
My world was ending fast like the first thunderstorm of Detroit. I gave up on muffins. There was no baton-twirling midget, no confetti-farting rhinoceroses, no candy. There was just rhubarb. And Silence.
[Sorry. The UBT is really having a hard time with this one. WILL IT EVER END?]
My friends and family were stuck. They didn’t know what was going on; all they knew was my seemingly unnecessary depression. I trudged back and forth to work amid discussions of counseling, tentative hugs and attempts at forcing me to eat. In the end, I was still broken. The only thing worse than bearing that heavy a weight alone is carrying it yourself.
WTF? The only thing worse than carrying something alone is carrying it yourself? Do you read? Do you have a proofreader?
And then he called.
Kibbles!
He wanted me to know his wife knew everything. That he loved me and couldn’t function without me. But he wasn’t ready. Could I wait, please. He needed me. He would be with me when his kids started school again. He would be with me in September. Yes, of course I would wait. He was my love.
I didn’t mean what I said about rhubarb.
The next few months were a whirlwind of elation and doubt. We were together nearly every day, as together as a hidden relationship allows you to be. He talked of long-term dreams, about our future house and trips we would take and having kids eventually. My heart longed for it and wanted to trust him. My brain knew better.
I sat by, clinging to hope, and watched him as he bought new furniture with his wife. They got a new car.
I got waffles and extra crispy bacon. I’m the one he really loves.
He hired a landscaper and started repairs on his house. I became a Monday through Friday, nine to five girlfriend.
For those forty hours a week that his wife was working, he was mine.
Because she’s the breadwinner?! Because he’s available while HIS WIFE WORKS and you think YOU are the MODERN woman? But that chumpy wife, she’s just an obstacle to your happiness, what with her JOB and FAMILY and all. Boy, you got a gem there.
He loved me and worshipped me and spoke of our future. But September came and September passed. The sun and moon rose and fell. And I was still alone.
He told me we’d be together in September. So every first of September, I wait. I go to the same Greasy Spoon diner and I wait for him. For my love. And as the years go by, my hope does not wane. It naively stays strong. Maybe one day, after all the lost time, he will join me and my September will come.
I am the Lady of Shalott. His waffles are getting cold. I will wait.
****
This is a rerun. The UBT is still recovering.
OMG, I am speechless. This truly is too much to digest. What went wrong with this woman? It is so bad that I actually feel sorry for her. I really hope this guy’s wife dumped him already. God, what a piece of shit..
I’d feel sorrier for her if I could believe a word out of her mouth. They have to be so secret that they flee from a diner without eating, but she hangs out with his kids on the regular? She sees him Monday to Friday 9-5 (guess she works nights and never sleeps) and yet she goes and sits in a diner every September waiting for him? Literally nobody in her family has any curiosity about a romantic life that takes up three years of her life?
To me this reads like an OW who had a cookie-cutter affair and made up a whole fantasy about her doomed love to make it interesting in her own head (and of course saleable). I’d bet she has a trail of exasperated friends saying things like “he’s not going to leave his wife for you” that she ignores because Twu Wuv.
She’s a family friend. That’s how it works. I have no idea how many of these evil women were screwing my ex husband but I know at least a few women I trusted were.
It’s weird she’s out alone with him at the diner. That’s why they have to hide. Because if someone sees them they’ll think, “Why is Heather’s friend Cheryl out holding hands at breakfast with Heather’s husband?” But Cheryl coming to a BBQ at Heather’s house and playing with her kids isn’t weird at all. They’re friends.
I lived this. It’s a special kind of evil because you basically lose anyone. There’s no way to know who to trust. It taints the entire community.
“It taints the entire community.” I think it’s meant to, sort of like the devil cult in Rosemary’s Baby. Remember the “Dr. Hill” scene when she finds out she has nowhere to run? https://www.facebook.com/nowness/videos/rosemarys-baby-telephone-scene-clip/10155243714617454/
That’s a very good point. Oh wow, yeah, it is just like that. Where was I gonna go? Damn. I never thought of it like that before.
That’s DV entrapment in a nutshell. Most batterers leave violence as a last resort (so much effort. Might break a sweat, a nail or get arrested, sigh…) in the case victims break through the barbed wire web of emotional, psychological and social coercion. You can find the earlier parts of this Australian series on Youtube but this is the segment that discusses the spread of “coercive control” legislation around the world.
For me, social coercion/blackmail/character assassination was probably the most effective control tactic because I felt like such a sitting duck. I’d previously been made into a “controversial” figure by standing up for certain issues locally and in advocacy for certain embattled causes. I’m hardly special in this regard but there are actually attack pages dedicated to my nomme de plume because simply advocating for basic things like institutional abuse of disabled kids and toxic dumping near playgrounds, etc., can make you some serious enemies (btw, the professional industrial troll playbook of character assassination and coercion are identical to the abuser/FW playbook). FW played on that– my fear of adding fuel to the fire of the scary false narratives I’d already squared off with. I may have had particular vulnerabilities to this but I suspect it’s a deep fear for everyone that probably goes back to caveman times when being expelled from the tribe meant certain death. In fact, the fear may run so deep that most people can’t even identify it. They’ll just find themselves suddenly going into paralyzed “possum mode” if an abuser threatens social ruin, especially if the abuser has studied the target and then tailors the attacks to the particular fears and vulnerabilities of the target.
Social coercion is definitely a thing. But we’re in early days of understanding coercive control and it’s just not well enough defined or talked about enough. If you see the series “Maid” about coercive control, one of the first gestures the abuser does is to– subtly and by implication– threaten the victim with false child neglect charges.
Sorry– link to Part 3 of the Australian series, “See what you made me do?” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffS83iql8eo
OW in my case was (acted like) my friend (she was a coworker of both FW and myself, but more HIS friend). She was at my house or at events with us ALL THE TIME, and our kids played together frequenctly. I didn’t dislike her at first, and was never unkind to her. And yet she was pursuing him and then got involved with him almost from the very beginning. I started to get uncomfortable with the flirtiness I saw between her and FW, but I let myself be talked out of it for years. All our friends knew, and apparently approved, of the affair. I was the last to know. I ended up losing my entire social circle, and OW took my place in it.
“When relationships are superficial, everyone is replaceable”. OW may have “replaced you” but it wasn’t worth being in a social circle where friendships mean so little they can replace anyone so easily. Those are trash friends and you’re worth so much more than that.
I didn’t know you could order Belgian waffles in the soft side. That was the only thing of value in that letter.
I don’t know if I could even be friends with someone that damn picky about their waffles. Servers probably hate them.
Soft waffles? Tells me everything I need to know about this guy. Not even crispy bacon can redeem that.
Dude likes his waffles like he likes his affair partner’s brain: on the soft side.
Pretty sure their bacon will be crispy in hell.
I will never understand the mind of the OW. What makes them tick. I can not imagine being so pathetic that they allow themselves to be the dirty little secret. To be so arrogant that you think they are better than the wife. And not give a rat’s behind that they are playing a part in destroying a marriage. But, in this women’s case she gets crispy bacon and Belgian waffles as her constellation prize period. Pathetic.
“I got waffles and extra crispy bacon. I’m the one he really loves.”
UBT deadpan at its finest.
waffling – 1) to be continually indecisive or ineffective 2) to equate one’s lack of self-esteem with lack of commitment 3) to say one thing and do another because you’re a lying liar who lies
Such a “modern woman” can’t figure out how to be single and buy a vibrator. Nope. Gotta bang a married man. THAT’s the key to freedom…
It’s the narcissism at play. She believes that any man she dated would fall in love with her immediately so she has to date married men to stay out of a relationship.
The reality is that most men wouldn’t want a relationship with her but would probably use her for sex. She’s a horrible, evil woman who backstabs her friends. Nobody wants to seriously date that but plenty of men will fuck it now and then. But she can’t face that reality. Deep down she knows it’s reality because she probably dated in the past and figured out she isn’t wanted. But she can’t accept that so she spins it.
By dating married men, she can convince herself that she’s so special they’ll cheat on their wives with her! Except the reality is that they just need someone low enough and gross enough to debase herself by sleeping with married men and she’s simply the one who signed on to be that gross and low.
And WTH is it about they don’t want entanglements so they go after a married man. That is the epitome of entanglements.
Reality is except for in the movies, these whores can’t get a single guy to spend money on them to any degree except maybe for a taco and a logger from a roach coach. But a married man well, that means money flowing. It is called hush money.
A quality woman who doesn’t want to get married won’t be hidden away.
Attention Wal-Mart shoppers! Did someone lose a greasy, tear-stained letter describing a life so pathetic, trite and melodramatic that all our cashiers and stockers are hiding in the dog food aisle laughing their asses off? (And playing their thumb violins like virtuosos.) They all think your Sir Lancelot is their unemployed, waffle snorting worthless POS cousin, who still owes them $200.
“I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”
I hate when they use Scripture to support their line of reasoning!!!!
In the love letter that reignited my ex’s affair with one OW, she wrote that they’d been covering God’s true love with false love (a/k/a the longterm relationship and life I had with my ex) for the four years since they’d paused their affair. They hardly knew each other. She then wrote something about how they’d burn the house down with their love? Can’t remember the precise wording, but you get the gist. (Actually, this wasn’t even the worst/most embarrassing part of the letter. There was poetry, too…) My ex is an atheist, but I’m certain he reveled in the adoration from this dumb, manipulative, “godly” young woman. Seeing their correspondances made me realize that the person I’d been living with and loving all those years was actually a stranger. I lost all respect.
Maybe your ex was drawn to someone culty because there are existential cults as well. Not the only example but was your ex a big fan of Richard Dawkins, the late Christopher Hitchens or Sam Harris, etc.? Read Chris Hedges, “When Atheism Becomes Religion.” Hedges supports both nonbelief and faith very eloquently so the book is hardly anti-atheistic but is really about defining what makes for cult structures and views as opposed to non-cult ideology.
Personally, I think cults are the perfect type of structure for narcissists since all forms of cults, whether religious or existential, are based on fabricated caste systems separating a supposedly sinful/criminal subclass from supposedly transcendently moral elites who were either chosen by God or genetically blessed and therefore believe themselves born to the privilege of taking absolute power. Narcs love hierarchies like that because there’s always the chance of being the one who gets all the power. The black/white, all-good-or-all-evil view of others that defines cults perfectly reflects the “splitting” behavior that personality disordered people engage in and provides “moral justification” to practice their favorite pastime– spitting on “inherently” lesser beings.
I also am guessing she didn’t know about all the others who were staking a claim to twu wuv with FE in those four years.
I saw that too! Infuriating.
Does it count that the fundamentalist-raised AP called me “devil woman” (thus my screen moniker)? If I was ever in danger of mythologizing the affair or AP, that killed it. She was demented, nothing more. If I was writing a film about a poacher, I’d definitely have them bible-thump for extra creepy effect like Samuel L. Jackson’s character in Pulp Fiction or the child-raping preacher in Devil All the Time. https://www.facebook.com/JustAshotttt/videos/robert-pattinsons-delusions-speech-in-the-devil-all-the-time-2020/343642030120960/ There’s really no better dramatic device to make a character telegraph twisted evil.
I am my beloved’s, but my beloved is cake’s.
Fixed that for her!
Is that where that’s from? I swear my FW and his wifetress used that in their texts to each other. Some of this other drivel sounds like them also. I only read 3 days worth and then kicked him out so I wasn’t tempted to keep reading that nausea-inducing crap. Thankfully he is her problem now.
Song of Solomon. I am my beloved and my beloved is mine. His banner over me is love……if my memory serves
It’s from the one sexy biblical book, “Song of Songs” (Ch. 6:3) which is about King Solomon – who according to the later book, I Kings 11:3 had 700 wives and 300 concubines. It was “her” quote (unclear who “she” was, but she undoubtedly thought she was his one twu luv, just like the other 999.
I was apoplectic over the slut’s use of the Bible, too. The verse is from the Song of Solomon, which Christians interpret as an allegory of the love between God and the church, though it’s not limited to that understanding, and it’s the most sensuous book in Bible.
My stomach must be getting weaker as I age because I felt absolutely nauseated the whole time I was reading that YourTango submission.
JFC on a crispy waffle. Waffletwat. Merry Crispness. Holy effing nutcases with a side of insanity.
I think the word processor in my brain is blowing a fuse. My cochleas are melting down faster than Chernobyl.
If God needs to wipe us all out to save the animals and plants, I am ready to go.
Inside the tiny disordered mind of a super freak along with Tracy’s subtitles is a hilarious way to start the day.
This is concrete proof that affair partners aren’t getting away with anything.
😂
WTF! It’s like a creepier version of a lone cat lady stalker writing a fucking novel. No wonder he stays with his wife….this modern woman sidechick is fucking insane!
You’d think after 3 years of being a trashy cheap hole I’d be used to being a trashy cheap hole.
Maybe one day I’ll have the privilege of supporting this scumbag.
Signed, dumb bitch.
I think that sums this one up.
Daaaaammmmnnnn. 💯💯💯💯
This OW is wildly gaslighting herself and certainly served up an epic batch of crispy Caesar bagged word salad for no discernible purpose but her own outlandish fantasy of being speshul.
Exhibit A:
“Sharing my man”.
Versus
“Poaching / stealing / borrowing / using someone else’s man / husband / father”
In her deeply twisted and unhinged mind the cheater is her man and she is generously knowingly sharing him with his wife.
This is asymmetrical warfare at its most essential and basic.
These kind of self pitying scheming mate poachers do not know their own reality and this one was clearly high as fuck on her own schmopium (Schmoopie hopium). So delusional and ultimately scary as this still-in-the-dark chump doesn’t know this kind of OW won’t become a full tilt stalker if she isn’t / wasn’t already.
Loves the kids (how?) but readily fucks over the mother they came from. Which is fucking over the kids she supposedly loves.
She is speshul alright.
Yeah, that part ” We had such an intense connection that I was convinced living without him would be so much worse than enduring the agony of sharing my man” REALLY ticked me off.
FW told me that he and the child mistress would talk about me and how to best break up my marriage “without hurting me.” As though a) that’s possible or b) that I would want to hear about their sick AF hobbies.
The fact that I was with him for 21 years and her 4, that I have a child with him, and that we had built a life together means nothing to her. For her, the fact that he blows thousands of dollars on her, hides her from the world and only sees her at hotels makes HER the real deal.
Bitch was feeling sorry for me. That part makes me sick.
And that FW talked about our daughter with this CHILD so much that she thinks he’s a stellar dad and can’t wait to meet my baby (she’s 12). Another sick-making part. My daughter is stuck having this sicko for a dad and his delusional sidepiece in her life because these two selfish narcissists decided that their fun mattered way more than his commitments or family.
With her for 4 years? Or “with” her. While he was living with and married to you. What does it even mean to be dating a married man? The concept is ridiculous.
OW was “dating” my husband for 4 years. When I finally got to the point where I was done and they “came out” publicly (like everyone didn’t already know), they lasted about 6 months. I guess it was easier to be “part time” with each other. Once she had him 24/7, she realized what a jerk he was.
And yet these cock sockets think it’s a viable option. 🙄🙄🙄🙄
I bloody love that…..’cock socket’…..😂😂🤣🤣😂
Narcissists tend to overcompensate with treacly public displays of “caring” to avoid the stigma of being branded with narcissism. So I suspect she wasn’t genuinely feeling sorry for you. She just reads a lot of psychobabble clickbait about “empaths” which has become so rampant and silly it’s beginning to sound like the new form of eugenics which is likely especially attractive to narcissists (some people are just born transcendently “thenthitive” and superior to others!). It was likely part of her pickme dance competition to telegraph nurturing qualities. Rest assured, she hates your guts and wishes you ill.
Shhhh, don’t “educate” the schmoopies or disabuse them of their delusions in the wakes of affairs. Let them go on thinking the humpathons were twu wuv and wasting their peak or fertile years pining and smoking schmopium (good one). Like Napoleon never said, don’t interfere with a poacher while they’re in the process of destroying themselves.
Yes, but this is how the OW thinks. In my case, she got so angry at ME for being with HER man, she’d push me out of the way to sit next to him, or scream at me that I shouldn’t buy him things. I was the impediment in HER way. She once told me I had NO RIGHT (all caps) to be involved in HER LIFE. I was truly flabbergasted by that, because, like, SHE was the one who horned her way into MY life and MY marriage. She’s going to bang someone’s husband and then be upset that the wife isn’t happy about it? The cognitive dissonance, or just plain stupidity, is baffling.
Isawthelight,
I don’t know much about AP. They were long distance and I count myself very lucky for that. She’s not my ex friend, or a coworker, a neighbor.. not even local. That removes many issues that other Chumps deal with, so yes, again, I’m lucky in that regard. If she were local, I have no doubt that I would become a super sleuth to find out as much info about her as I could, and the info would only hurt me.
I DO know that she was incredibly jealous of me and the role I played in my husband’s life. Now, in a way, I understand that. Here I was, living with her boyfriend, spending time with her boyfriend, sharing a life with her boyfriend. I can see why that would bother her. But it ignores the most logical concept, “if you want a guy all to yourself, don’t pick one who has a wife and child.” Seems pretty straightforward, no?
Now we are splitting up, he will be moving out in the next few months, and they are also over. The only reason that I know about her is because he was planning on leaving me for her. Then at some point, that went bust, but I am not interested in being plan b. So the whole thing is just a big crazy mess. She didn’t get him, he lost us both, in a way the real winner is me, because I am LACGAL. I don’t FEEL like a winner. I feel like roadkill. But she wasted years of her life on a FW thinking it was two wuv and he blew up his entire life. My life is messy…but should get better.
Good God, did this woman never talk to girlfriends? Read Ann Landers?
Tracy’s response is such a gem that I reread this every time she re-runs it. It keeps getting better and better on re-reading. I even wondered if she rewrote some of the UBT’s responses–there are some treasures I don’t recall.
I wonder how many OW hear that “his wife knew everything…But he wasn’t ready.” That shows so much disdain for the OW/AP, as well as the wife. I’d like to believe that the wife did NOT know, and that buying new furniture, a new car, landscaping and home repairs were not desperate pick-me-dancing. Or if she knew, maybe it was her was of spending down those marital funds that SHE earned.
Getting a copy of LACGAL is world-changing for chumps. I wonder if sending copies of this letter to OWs/OMs would also be eye-opening and life-changing. Even better, distributing it to teens before they become the others.
I read the furniture purchases as maybe the wife was lining up her ducks buying newer furniture before she ended up impoverished on the other end of a divorce. But who knows. That would be an odd way to pick me dance.
There’s an old blues song that has lyrics such as “Honey, your husband’s been cheatin’ on us, I thought we had a good man, I thought we had a man we could trust”. Now it’s stuck in my head, LOL.
Waffle, waffle, waffle, waffle, waffle on and on … You know, unless you’re in the Philippines, in all wide world there’s a thing called ‘divorce’. Once you go through it, you can eat as many waffles together as you want, play violin or viola and stop wasting everybody’s time.
A Belgian waffle on the soft side? The picker of that one is desperately stuck on “poor taste”. In men (free and available is sexy, as opposed to currently taken), and Belgian waffles (crispy and fluffy is the only way to go for the Brussel variety; onctuous and cloyingly sugary can be accepted for the Liege specialty; never soft! never chewy!). At least, that one only stalks restaurants serving poor quality food. Soft. Like dead-brain soft?
“Modern woman” tells me that the author is a Boomer who read Helen Gurley Brown at a young age and then never really grew up. That’s who was selling the idea that a woman who didn’t want to be bogged down with a tedious relationship should pick married men for sex.
I get the idea that if someone told this ninny “why didn’t you just get Tinder or find a fuckbuddy instead of a married man?” she wouldn’t even hear you before she went on and on again about her Doomed Romance.
Emma Goldman, too:
https://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/goldman/works/1914/marriage-love.htm
I’m with her that marriage in a patriarchal society institutionalizes inequality and imprisons women — and also that the socialists/anarchists were also sucking the dick of the patriarchy. She lost me with the rest.
Damn, that’s disappointing. So many of the progressive classic types have this thing where they get all the problems with current society spot-on, but then they completely fly off the deep end in terms of solutions.
I had to Google Gurley Brown. Jeez, what a tacky, depressing, history, like Sunset Blvd with reverse genders. https://nypost.com/2000/02/01/helen-gurley-brown-shockermy-days-as-a-hwood-sex-retary/
I am also old enough to remember Cosmo and Helen Gurley Brown. A truly awful cultural contribution that hoodwinked so many women.
All the while she was married to a very wealthy man, whom she constantly referred to as her support and great love
She was neither single nor independence
He might have been a poached husband I can’t remember
David Brown’s first wife was Liberty “Tibby” LeGacy, one year younger than he. They had a son, Bruce. Enter Helen Gurley Brown, 6 years younger, who joined Cosmopolitan magazine when David was Managing Editor, before he became a famous movie producer.
Bruce was David’s only child, got into using and selling drugs; he died of AIDS “from intravenous drug use in his 50s,” predeceasing his parents and stepmother. David and Helen had no “issue” (or issues!?!) and remained married till old age and death.
Amen to this. Emotionally-unavailable dick is not a scarce resource. No need to abuse other humans to get it.
Hey guess what? I have been in a long term, monogamous, casual relationship for several years now. We get together and hang out a couple of times a week and then one of us goes home, most nights. Sometimes we spend the night together or go on vacation together but then it’s fun and exciting because it isn’t every day. We don’t make many demands on each other. Oh yeah, and neither one of us is married or otherwise in another prime relationship. So if that is what you want, no need to get involved with somebody else’s husband (or wife).
Gee. I have the same set up with my grandchild!! Lol
“Maybe it was the jolt of electricity we both felt when we first met and shook hands or maybe it was our mutual understanding of the other’s troubles. Either way, we grew to rely on one another. We became each other’s go-to when one of us needed support.”
It’s so funny how they so often bond over sharing their “troubles” (specifically the married person complaining about their spouse, and in my case BOTH of them complaining about their spouses). Why not bond with someone over shared interests and joys and the good things in your life? Because once the spouse(s) is(are) out of the picture, what do they have to talk about? It’s like joining forces to deal with a common enemy, but once the enemy is no longer a threat, there is no reason for the partnership. In my case FW and OW’s relationship fell apart quite swiftly once I stopped pick me dancing and went as grey rock as I could (barring the kid and some financial things).
And they also think that sexual chemistry/thrill is some indicator that they are meant to be together or something. Jolt of electricity my ass. That’s not love. That’s infatuation, and it doesn’t last.
I first read “our mutual understanding of the other’s troubles” as “the other’s deficiencies.” Not even close, but that’s what I saw.
I actually think the jolt of electricity you feel when you meet some people is a warning. I felt it with my ex. I thought it was love because I was young. When I met my grizzly bear, I felt very comfortable with him. I think that’s how it’s supposed to be. Your partner is supposed to bring you peace, not feed you butterflies.
I’ve heard this before – the butterflies are your body giving you a danger warning.
I don’t think I’ll ever have a romantic relationship again, but if I do, I don’t want butterflies, or fireworks, or grand gestures. I want a relationship that feels like sitting in front of a crackling fire, wrapped in a blanket with a cup of hot tea. SAFE. COMFORTABLE. LIKE HOME.
It makes me think of bossy kids from third grade who’d always commandeer fantasy games, typically assign themselves the most flattering roles and then throw fits if others wouldn’t follow the script. “So I’m the beautiful princess and you’re the ogre and you chase me!” How can you be “sought after princess in a tower” if the ogres won’t ogre?!
The jolt of electricity is the adrenaline high from all the sneaking around. Did you notice how she never mentions asking him to leave his wife? They both know he’s not going to. The cheating is the point.
It amazes me the amount of fw’s who think the tingle in their pants is an indicator of true love.
Anyone with an average level of intelligence knows how and why the sexual response is set up the way it is.
Teen age boys can get excited over a picture of a female ass pasted over a stump hole, and apparently many middle aged folks can do the same. Some folks just never progress beyond 12.
“I sat by, clinging to hope, and watched him as he bought new furniture with his wife. They got a new car.”
“He hired a landscaper and started repairs on his house.”
Um, how would Shmoops know this? Stalk much? We got a bunny burner here, IMO.
The Chump probably got herself a kick ass post-nup. “Look FW, we are going to fix this house up for sale on the oft chance you can’t keep up with your agreement. (Which he won’t.) I get to keep the proceeds.”
These people suck. Out loud.
I figure she knows it because they fucked in the house. OW marked her territory in the marital bed. She went through the wife’s clothes and jewelry, too, and probably took a few things. She drank wine and ate snacks that the wife paid for.
That’s who this FW is.
I’m convinced she’s a friend of the wife, that’s how she knows all this.
Consider foregoing the waffles. The word salad is a lower-carb, more nutritionally-complete option.
Since this is a rerun, I gotta wonder if she’s still waiting for him in the Greasy Spoon.
I think he divorces and “twu luv” get hitched.
She’s a writer, she believes.
Is this actually AI-generated from somebody who fed ChatGPT Earth Wind & Fire’s “September?”
I just keep thinking about the wife. About her finding all of this out. I’ll wager she thinks it’s over, and he went deeper underground. Poor woman.
If you don’t want entanglement then…don’t get involved with someone. Like…it’s not hard to understand.
Right? Millions of single folks do it all the time.
I believe it is called casual dating, and no one cares what that involves between two single consenting adults.
You don’t have to hide unless you are doing something wrong.
people lie to themselves all the time, but this letter is AMAZING.
i feel the need to defend a good diner, i do. there’s a time and place for a spinning pie case, tears of liquid sugar sliding down the face of lemon meringue pie.
mmmm. pie.
These legends in their own little mind FWs are sooo charming – except to their chump wives. We just find them exasperating, mean, cruel, boring, dim mostly. And total shits for the most part. These women are delusioned.
This is beyond words, that someone could would actually put, pen to paper, and confess this dribble!
Get a life idiot, you are a home wrecking HOE!! No other name for it! I bet he loves to see you, he puts his “man flute” on GPS and it directs him to “HOEVILLE”! “HOEVILLE”, where all the magic happens! There are no sick children, dirty dishes, stretch marks, or unpaid bills! Life is one big magical sex session! Where everyone can run away from reality!
Wow! Did I have it wrong! Thank you so much HOE lady for enlightening me on the heart break of home wrecking! Hopefully your life sentence arrived on your doorstep, complete with wood in his pants, child support, and an angry X!
Bon Appetit!
The waffles are a metaphor, right? Please tell me this has some deeper, allegorical meaning. My brain cells are threatening to unionize.
The funniest part is when she said he called her again, claimed that his wife knew everything (ha ha, BS), and then asked her to wait (again/still). He proceeded to nurture his life with his spouse and kids, and kept her on the fringe per usual. The Letter Writer is pathetic — her self-esteem is clearly nonexistent. What kind of person allows herself to be strung along like this for years?! Very damaged. The sunk cost fallacy here is real.
Until the man actually moves out and files for divorce, he’s staying.
Yeah. He goes; “She knows, but I still can’t commit to you yet.” The idiot doesn’t think to ask him why the hell not. He makes some excuse about the kids having to finish the school year first. She actually bought that, because after all, everybody knows it hurts kids less when they are abandoned in June rather than in May. 🤡 Slow. In. Brain.
I can think of nothing more pathetic than showing up to the diner every year after it is obvious that he is no longer interested. Move on and find another (single) man. You’ve seen how dating a married cheater plays out, lady. Now the question is what have you learned from it? My guess is you don’t have the sense God gave a goat, so you’ll just repeat the pattern.
Waffles and bacon are ruined forever for me now. Maybe diners. Hopefully not violins.
I may have waffles and bacon for dinner tonight! I have an adorable pink waffle maker that I bought when FW moved out. I’ll be all alone, happily eating waffles with no FW around me to ruin my mood. Waffles are a symbol of freedom for me, thanks to that waffle maker being the first pink appliance I bought (I now also have a pink mixer-hand painted it myself!, a pink toaster and a pink coffee maker) when he moved out. I girlied up my house as much as I like, and it all started with a teeny waffle iron!
What I was thinking when I read this, gagging (beyond astonishment that this sort of thing even gets written by someone who isn’t 11 years old and faking it for the melodramatic hit)- is that this is not anything a man would write, even a man in love. It’s just the sappiest kind of trite irrelevance that some kinds of women think and write. It’s embarrassing. I’m a book indexer, and I read for a living and also just because I love to read, but THIS kind of writing is garbage. She should’ve got her love interest to edit it. That would’ve been a different story.
Are you kidding? There are genres upon genres of literature and movies written by men about the Male Hero who is torn between the dull respectability and stability of his married life (usually with a lot of shade about the wife) and the excitement of his forbidden affair with a younger, hotter woman. There are books upon books of highly-praised literary “classics” with this plotline to the point of self-parody.
You’re right! I didn’t recognize it! Early conditioning to the ‘male novelist’ and their Other Women. Now I’m needfully abashed…
I thought the same. The LW sounds like a failed romance novelist. She thinks she’s participating in some grand, Casablanca-style courtship but really, she is the warm orifice that this married man occasionally uses when his wife is at work and he’s bored. He takes her to some cheap diner and then pretends to see someone he knows, cutting the non-sex time to a minimum. This woman is such a pathetic moron. He’s never leaving his wife for you, honey. Get a clue.
After D-Day, FW tried to guilt me over what divorce would do the kids. I said something about them being much better off knowing betrayal is a deal-breaker and then asked if he wanted our daughter to grow up and waste the last of her twenties being porn-banged for free booze by some middle aged married douche. His face convulsed into this weird mask of horror and he rasped, “Nooo.”
FW’s reaction felt like the ultimate takeaway for OWs: “Not even cheating FWs want their daughters to grow up to be you.” So much for star-cwossed wuv.
Because I got a lot of twisted Madonna/whore vibes from FW’s behavior and because narcissists seem to have zero self-reference, I sensed it would take about five to ten years of depressing fallout before FW would have same reaction to the question of whether he wanted our sons to grow up like him so I didn’t ask. Personally, I think few fates would be more terrible. That’s the ultimate kibble-free takeaway for FWs: I imagine male chumps would also rather eat broken glass and self-immolate than have their daughters end up like their skeezy cheating mothers.
I used to fantasize about asking OW if she wanted her daughter to end up like her. Or even more to the point, ask her how she’d feel if her daughter ended up like ME. Would she excuse the behavior of the OW in that situation if her daughter was the one crying on the floor? Would she say, “You know, you can’t stand in the way of twu wuv, honey. You must’ve been a cold fish to your husband and a terrible wife for him to choose someone else over you.” I highly doubt it. But that’s the attitude she had toward ME. MY mother had to watch me cry and fall to pieces, for YEARS. It was that thought that convinced me OW had no empathy, and was likely a narcissist too. She’s also really unstable. One time at my house (FW’s birthday dinner, ’cause, you know, friends and shit) she yelled at her daughter (who was being whiny, I’ll admit). She was embarrassed, so I tried to empathize and said to her “we’ve all had those days”. OW screamed “YOU! DON’T!” (as in “don’t talk to me”) at me, then ran across the room, climbed up on my ottoman and curled in a ball screaming “don’t look at me! don’t look at me!”. It terrified the kids. FW hustled OW outside for a cigarette so she would calm down. OW’s two year old son was crying, so I picked him up, while also comforting my 5 year old son, who was crying too. I looked over at her daughter (age 6), and she was completely blank with no emotions. I said “Are YOU okay?” To which her daughter replied “It’s okay. I’m used to it. It happens A LOT”. I feel really bad for her daughter.
Your description gave me chills. I get the feeling that person is going to end up on the six o’clock news.
Ooof. Those poor kids.
“I could see the rings of Saturn frolicking in his trousers, and when he saw me, he could see sassy frauleins clogging on tables, with their naughty ankles and woolen knee socks, edelweiss falling from their buck-teeth. Our eyes met and it was earflaps. We knew each other catatonically. Deeply septuagenarian and intertwined, like obstructed intestines. Or pickled sideshow calf twins. In a Jar of Longing. Because aurora sparkles.”
LMAO! …. (coughing. I cough when I laugh too hard.) ” ….edelweiss falling from their buck-teeth” !! Hysterical. I can’t.
The “UBT” knocked it out of the ballpark.
“pickled sideshow calf twins.” I think I broke a tooth laughing.
Ok, what the hell did I just read? This is a joke, right? I can not wrap my mind around this one. There is spackling, and then there is this. Nope, can not do this. My brain is shorting out. Does she think he cares that she put her life on hold for him? Is she thinking what she is doing is noble? What a mental gymnastic team she has in her head.
I’ve never gotten why women are willing to date married men.
Decades ago, the secretary at work breathlessly told me how the married man she was dating was in every way her “dream.” To my twenty-something brain, married and dream didn’t quite work. But they went on for almost a year until the wife found out, and he ended it. It was a small town with only one major employer, so no surprise. She cried and cried at work. She was in her mid-thirties.
I went on a sabbatical with another organization and ran into her. She had gotten another secretarial job with my employer there and was having an affair with yet another married man, someone I occasionally consulted with on work matters. She filled my ears again with how wonderful he was. Then his wife found out, and she kicked him out of the house, so he moved in with her. She came by my office one day to tell me that they were going to get married. Once the divorce was final after several years of legal drama, he moved out.
She moved on to someone else in her ex’s office (actually single, shock), and then he broke up with her. I changed jobs at that point and lost track of her but always wondered if she ever figured out that the pattern wasn’t good. She always went after powerful, educated men with money and raved about all the lavish ways they treated her.
I really like waffles and bacon, but I can fix them myself, or go out to eat alone without having to scan the parking lot or dining room for people who know me. I’ve always wondered why cheaters think it is “fun” to cheat. I’ve been approached by married men, to have “fun”. I told them fun for me was going out to be with other people in a public place who enjoyed the same things I do, like music, or art, or history, or movies or plays. The list goes on, but hiding behind the oranges, or leaving a meal at a restaurant because someone might recognize me does not sound like fun.
I remember reading an old story written by someone who interviewed Tom Jones and his wife. The interviewer asked what it was like to be married to Tom Jones? (It’s Not Unusual, What’s New Pussycat, some of his hit songs for younger readers who may not remember him). Anyway, his wife said she sees him perform, but she also sees him sleep on the couch, snoring with a hole in his sock. Romance and sexy look different for different people, but I cannot imagine being blissful about having to sneak around. This woman has read too many romance novels and goes around Looking for Mr GoodBar (another old reference, see Diane Keaton and movie titles). Here’s a hint, this situation does not turn out well for anyone.
I was talking to my 33-year-old son last night about this Hook-Up mentality. Sex does not equate to love and commitment. How do you build a relationship when you only see people who are unavailable to you? How do you care about random body part/parts you only use for gratification? How do you not care about the feelings of the spouse and children at home, while you cavort with your unavailable human sex toy in private? This whole story sounds ridiculous to me. She cannot possibly know what he is thinking, and violins don’t swell or entwine in a crescendo of lust. Touching, always touching is just creepy. Do you go to the bathroom together? Do you pre-chew his food? Seriously, I need alone time, and sometimes that means eating alone while I’m in my recliner watching something interesting on TV. I hate to be bothered by someone talking or constantly touching me when I am trying to follow dialog. This woman needs to practice the art of privacy, and study up on self-esteem. Dependent and clingy? What distasteful combination!
What’s really funny is when you see them post on FB (OW/whores) about how independent and wonderful they are.
I checked FB a couple years back when fw died, to see what was posted about him and my son.
There was a meme on her page about how independent she is. Same women who took huge amounts of cash and gifts from FW. The very reason our D took so long was because of the marital funds he spent on her. But, yeah she was independent. Hell I supported her for several years, then she quit work and never went back after they got married.
She had leached off married men for years, and I give her credit; finally found one stupid enough to marry her.
Oh by the way, her son posted an ill written but decent thought, however he spelled my sons first name wrong, which by the way was the same name as fws.
My ex liked women dependent and clingy. He said to me once “You seem to be able to stand on your own two feet. You don’t need me anymore.” like it was a BAD thing. I was like “don’t you want to be with someone who WANTS to be with you rather than NEEDS you?” Nope. He left me for a girl with NO self-esteem, who clung to him like a barnacle.
Personally, I don’t like to be touched much. I have sensory issues. I only let a very few people touch me, and not all the time. My ex couldn’t understand that. He was always groping me while we were watching tv or while I was cooking or whatever. I hated it. But if I pushed him away, he got angry. I much prefer being single and not being bothered by anyone (except my kid, he’s okay). I like (need) my alone time, and I need a lot of it. I prefer to sit in bed by myself with a cup of tea and a good book than go out any day.
“Personally, I don’t like to be touched much. I have sensory issues. I only let a very few people touch me, and not all the time. My ex couldn’t understand that. He was always groping me while we were watching tv or while I was cooking or whatever. I hated it.”
Me too. Lots of ass grabbing, tit grabbing, thigh stroking. I told him it bothered me and to stop. He would conveniently “forget” I had ever said that and just keep on doing it. If I spoke sharply to him about ignoring what I had requested, out would come the sad sausage tactics about how I didn’t love him. Exhausting.
“I prefer to sit in bed by myself with a cup of tea and a good book than go out any day.”
100%
This was me also. He has to handle me just like a pet dog. CONSTANTLY touching me and not with any affection. It was 100 % grabbing and 110% for him. I told him I felt like a vending machine and actually he had started using outside woman so treated me the same as a Toaster. It got worse and worse until D day and finally I knew why. I had joined a harem of strange woman and I was just one many. Now I am on my own and after 32 years NO ONE will ever touch me against my will, coerce me, gas light me, blame me, hurt me, demand, have rage fits, leave me for the couch Night after night to punish me, leave me in rages on anniversary trips when he didn’t get exactly what he wanted,,exactly when he wanted it..I AM FREE TO FLY AWAY and now I live on my own. I am finally at peace. I am so grateful. Divorce could be final in a few short weeks. I am thrilled and all the OW can have him. I heard he will Marry as soon as the ink is still wet on the judges signature. You can have him OW. I will apply the frosting and sprinkles!!! Enjoy, he’s still a turd.
Vomit, vomit, vomit….that is all.
The whole point of a waffle is that it’s crispy. If you want a soft waffle, you want pancakes. JFC, the dipshit doesn’t even know he likes pancakes instead of waffles.
Especially Belgian (not Belgium, LOL) waffles. Flabby Waffle would be a good FW name.
“I was a secure, confident woman”
Nope. If you were, you wouldn’t be afraid of getting into a real relationship.
A reciprocal relationship compliments your life. It doesn’t compromise it.
Secure, confident women don’t feel the need to compete with another woman for a man. A secure, confident woman would have nothing to do with a man already who is attached. You’re a mass of insecurities, probably stemming from daddy issues. But hey, how awesome! You got a chance to live your dysfunctional childhood over and try to take daddy away from mommy! How’s that workin’ for ya?
“The only thing worse than bearing that heavy a weight alone is carrying it yourself.”
You know what’s worse, other than your godawful writing? Getting your heart smashed into little pieces by the cruelty of a beloved spouse is worse. Getting an STD from him/her knocking boots with trash like you is worse. The kids being traumatized by watching one parent suffer while the other one goes around smirking about it (and continues to cheat) is much worse, you creepily self-centered POS. The kids doubting that the cheater loves them because he/she is doing these things? Worse. Their terror of family breakup, of being left with only one parent, one who isn’t fully functional due to trauma, and who may even die from cancer caused by HPV? Worse, bitch. Let’s add HIV to the pile of worse things, too. Let’s add marital rape, which you helped him to pull off by being the means to circumvent his wife’s informed consent.
Your alleged pain is self-inflicted, caused by your own choices. His wife and kids are having it inflicted upon them, and you are part of the torture team. Yet you want sympathy? Go fuck yourself.
“For those forty hours a week that his wife was working, he was mine.”
IOW, you fucked in the marital bed while she was at work and the kids were at school, and you didn’t even clean up your twat effluent stains on the sheets afterwards. You ate food from her fridge that she paid for and snickered about how she was funding your trysts.
“He loved me and worshipped me and spoke of our future.”
He told his wife the same lies. Look how that turned out.
“And as the years go by, my hope does not wane. It naively stays strong.”
You’re not naive. You’re bottom of the barrel stupid. Add that to your long list of flaws. Your stupidity is stalwart and steadfast, therefore your beliefs cannot be moved by mere observable reality.
Raging daddy issues and narcissism, dipshit. Look into them with a qualified clinical psychologist.
When I kicked FW out after discovering his ongoing affair, aside from the clothes I threw down the stairs, he took THREE things from our house – a huge floor mirror (surprise?!), a blender for protein shakes (beefcake?) and our WAFFLE MAKER. Apparently he also has waffle demands – maybe that’s a thing.
Everytime I see an article on affairs on Flipboard I report it as offensive and abusive because that’s what it.
“Because she’s the breadwinner?! Because he’s available while HIS WIFE WORKS and you think YOU are the MODERN woman? But that chumpy wife, she’s just an obstacle to your happiness, what with her JOB and FAMILY and all. Boy, you got a gem there.”
This was my experience! FW was with the child mistress during the day while I worked my full-time job or sometimes after work while I worked freelance work to pay our bills (and apparently her stipend). Or on the rare holidays I got to be off to spend with family, he would leave me and our daughter “to go to work” which is, evidently, code for play with my mistress in a nearby hotel.
He has a full-time job and makes double what I do but he only works three days a week. Apparently the child mistress’ schedule allowed her to be with him whenever he wanted. I mean, that makes sense since I WAS [UNKNOWINGLY] PAYING HER. So I doubt she had a real job.
This reminds me how on D-Day…ON D-DAY!!!…while I was curled up in a ball and completely devastated by the news of his cheating, FW whined to me (his WIFE!) that he and the OW couldn’t even go out to dinner together for the almost three years that they were fucking around. Waaaa waaaa.🎻
The poor couple! And I thought that I had it bad. Imagine no dinners or diners. Just takeout and homemade meals. Imagine that! It’s tough to be a cheater.
The other woman of my Ex FW filled her fb page with sad memes about being dumped/abused/deceived by him! No one called out she has been openly having an affair with a married man and that I had also been dumped/abused/deceived as a result of her decisions. I don’t hold her 100% responsible for the affair but the irony here is strong 🙄🙄🙄
DC, I don’t have social media, so I made an anonymous Pinterest board and named it after OW and FW (first name and initial only so I couldn’t be sued) and filled it with memes about lying, cheating, narcissism and veneral diseases.
A friend went on FB, posting the link to some mutual acquaintances of OW and FW, saying innocently; “Look what I came across while looking up stuff on narcissism. This isn’t who I think it is, is it? What are the odds?”
Call me petty, but I was not having them come off smelling like roses.
This was shortly after Dday. I would not recommend it after some time has passed, since the focus should be on meh, not outing the FWs.
That’s too hilarious to regret. Plus, you were never really busted, which is about the only thing that might have been regrettable. Like I mentioned a few times, I think of relatively harmless, untraceable stunts like that as “preemptive traumatic memory hacking.” That way, when you get invasive flashbacks about a particular horrifying incident later, whatever prank you pulled in temporal proximity pops into the frame sort of like the Foo Fighters Rickrolling a Westboro Baptist Church rally.
“I could see the rings f Saturn frolicking in his trousers” is possibly the funniest line the UBT has ever spit out. My mind was suddenly filled with an image of a bizarre ring-toss sex game. A team sport. Maybe entering competitive events with other cheaters. That’s what those really modern affairs consist of, I’m sure. Trouser ring toss and barfy essay contests.
In the meantime as this lovesick, maudlin Schmoopie bemoans how hard it is to break up, I wish — for only one moment — she could live inside the mind and world of a chump…where we don’t even have a vote in what happens to the relationship, and it’s followed by court, legal bills, and custody matters.
Yeah, yeah, just heartbreaking to be the Schmoopie. If God is just, someday Schmoopie will love again, marry, and then a woman more modern than herself will slither into her husband’s bed and wreak hell on them both.
And it’s Rings of Saturn time all over again!
“My self-inflicted agony is the only agony that matters.”
I read this and thought, ‘This is the worst thing about fuckwits.’ Of course, everything about fuckwits is the worst. This is up there, though.
I know this OW’s compelling autofiction seems farfetched, but it’s absolutely plausible. I was trapped in a several-hours-long car-ride with a new “friend” who confessed a mortifyingly similar tale about of her OW exploits — with a married man in our teeny tiny rural town — who also happened to be her ex’s best friend. His wife was a friend of hers, and their kids were best buds. They went on family camping trips together, and his wife helped her through her divorce, yada yada. She showed ZERO remorse and didn’t seem to grasp the hypocrisy and absurdity of it all. She felt sorry for herself that she could no longer play broomball with the gang (seriously) or remain friends with the wife’s friends. She described horribly mean, sneaky things that were appalling and seemed oblivious to what a POS she was. She evidently wanted camaraderie and sympathy from me… for what, I honestly couldn’t fathom. And she knew enough about my history that she should’ve known better. Talk about clueless and entitled. I just remembered that she started inviting me to join her at community events where her ex or the couple would be present, so that she wouldn’t feel left out or ostracized. (I declined until eventually she got the point.) I know that to be capable of that sort of thing, you have to be pretty fucked up, but the level of cluelessness and is entitlement is still unbelievable to behold.
This letter also reads a lot like the cheesy, stupid shit I read in OW’s emails to my ex. They really are that dumb, mean and selfish. Imagine thinking that crap from that kind of asshole makes you special. Chumps get legitimately fooled; AP’s are a different story altogether.
Today’s article from Chump Lady made me feel triggered all over the place! I have been through 2 men and both had approximately 3 year affairs each. I recently heard from my daughter the story about her dad – the first cheater -and the OW just before he left me for good. She said her dad and his AP had a rip roaring fight as he told her he wanted to come back to me. What a player. I knew zero about OW and was pregnant with my daughter. I almost won a turd???!! Well OW won and so did OW(S)# 2. I am days away from the divorce finale with cheater #2. It makes me so ill to think of the lies and the stories behind my back. A whole play backstage. I’m in all the scenes being talked about, but the curtain only goes up when I’m home with cheater. I am being used and abused. I just get so angry. CL brings it all home again. The reason I filed, the reason I went no contact and the reason I had to lock this cheater out. He was so abusive and blamed everything on me. I had zero to work with. Just reading this article today gives me back my dignity because I’m nobody’s stooge. Not anymore. And never again.
I remember reading this for the first time a long time ago. I was furious. My scars were new and the pain was huge.
Now, I find the letter writer pathetic and delusional. I am so glad I am done with my ex- husband who threw everything we had together, all the memories and years in a trash can for probably someone as delusional as the letter writer. As I hear from others he claims to be depressed and very unhappy. I am so happy those sad days are over. He respected!! his side piece so much that he refused to get a divorce from me. I used to tell him that divorce will be better for both of us, and he responded with anger many times: “how do you know what is good for me”? A disrespectful, typical cake eater, whom these delusionals deserve. In many cases, they clearly use their side dish.